


don't wait too long

by theafterimages



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theafterimages/pseuds/theafterimages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sehun agrees to go to Qingdao and pose as Zitao’s boyfriend, though Zitao is unaware that Sehun wishes it weren’t an act. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	don't wait too long

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote the first draft of this last year, then set it aside until last week. Polished and posted for [Fake Dating AUs Week](http://curledupkitten.dreamwidth.org/8225.html). Thank you to N & K for the initial brainstorming and to T for looking it over!

“I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

Sehun almost chokes on his drink. He’s not sure what he’d been expecting when Zitao had offered to treat him to lunch, but this wasn’t it. “You what?”

“Please?” Zitao says hopefully, clasping his hands dramatically.

“Why? You said you wanted to be single this year.” Sehun remembers that all too well—he’d returned to school having worked up the courage to confess his feelings, only for Zitao to announce his intentions to take a year to find himself or something, even though he’s pretty much the most self-aware person Sehun knows).

He grimaces. “Mama wants to set me up with someone. She doesn’t get it.”

“You liked the last guy she set you up with.”

“Exactly. I don’t _want_ to date anyone, but she’d probably pick somebody who would make me change my mind. I can’t risk it. And you’re the only person I can think of to ask. Everyone else is either straight, taken, or I already went out with them.”

Sehun tries to think of an alternative, but quickly flounders. “What about, um, Yixing hyung?” he says desperately. “He’s straight, but I’m pretty sure he’s kissed more guys than I have.”

“Can’t, I already told her about that time you kissed him.”

“You told her about that?”

Zitao laughs. “You should’ve seen your face after! It’s a good story.”

Sehun doesn’t doubt it. That’s one stupid party he’ll never forget—Yixing kissing him almost the second the closet door had shut on them, seven minutes of what was probably the best make out session of his life, and then Yixing pulling away as soon as everyone opened the door again, patting his cheek and beatifically saying Sehun would make Zitao very happy someday, leaving Sehun both extremely turned on and extremely confused. How had Yixing even known he liked Zitao? He’s only ever admitted it to Jongin and Joonmyun.

“But if she knows we’re just friends, then won’t she know we’re not really dating?”

“Mama keeps telling me to ask you out, since I talk about you so much,” Zitao says with a shrug. 

Sehun stares, his heart abruptly pounding at Zitao’s words. “You do?”

“You’re one of my favorite people, of course I do,” he says, wrapping his arms around Sehun’s waist.

Sehun, to his horror, can feel himself blushing. “All right, I’ll do it; you don’t have to keep saying things like that,” he says, squirming free of Zitao’s embrace as Zitao cheers.

 

 

 

 

Zitao shows up at Sehun’s dorm half an hour before Lu Han’s due to take them to the airport, suitcases in tow. “Is that my snapback?” Sehun asks, making a grab for it, but Zitao steps out of reach just in time.

“I need it,” he whines. “My hair looks awful today.”

“Your hair looks awful every day,” Sehun retorts automatically, and _doesn’t_ want to kiss away Zitao’s resulting pout. “But fine, you can borrow it, I guess.”

“Thank you, Hunhun.” Zitao hugs him. And, okay, Sehun holds on a little longer than he should, but Zitao gives the best hugs of anyone he’s ever met. No one could blame him. “I have something for you to borrow, too! That’s why I’m here; so you can put it on before we go.”

“What is it?” Sehun asks, intrigued. Trust Zitao to add as many touches to this whole thing as he can.

Zitao hands over a red box. Sehun recognizes the designer label on the front. “Tao-”

“No, it’s fine, open it!”

There’s a gold bracelet inside, a small gold screwdriver next to it. “It’s the Love bracelet,” Zitao explains excitedly, while Sehun tries to stay as expressionless as possible and not think about how much he wishes this was real. “I’ve been wanting it for a really long time, so I bought it for myself. But you can wear it now and act like I gave it to you for White Day, then give it back when we leave."

Sehun wets his lips. Zitao’s told him about this bracelet before. "Isn't it, like, a symbol of love and commitment and stuff?"

"I can love and commit to myself!"

Sehun shakes his head. Sometimes he wonders about his own taste in guys, he really does. “You’re so weird.”

Zitao pouts at him. “Stop, just let me put it on you.”

“Fine, whatever,” he says, and hopes Zitao won’t notice how his pulse is racing.

 

 

 

 

Sehun has imagined this before, being on his way to Qingdao to meet Zitao’s family and friends. He’d just always envisioned it happening because their relationship was serious enough for it, not because they were _faking_ a relationship.

“Lucky, getting the window seat,” Zitao says, leaning against Sehun and interrupting his reverie. He smells so good, Sehun thinks, and is more grateful than ever that he's developed such a good poker face. “That’s always my favorite.”

“Thank you for letting me have it, hyung,” Sehun coos, the honorific feeling as strange to use for Zitao as ever, although it’s worth it for the way Zitao laughs in disbelief.

“I almost became a flight attendant,” Zitao says after a pause.

“Really?”

“Yeah. A lot of my friends did. I could have.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Lu Han made studying in Seoul sound so interesting. I decided I wanted to do that instead.” Zitao covers Sehun’s hand with his, and Sehun can’t resist looking down, just for a second, just to see how it looks—their hands joined, the bracelet around his wrist. Like they’re a real couple. “I’m glad I did.”

Sehun swallows. One different choice and he might not have met Zitao at all. “Yeah, it’s been all right,” he mumbles, and Zitao laughs and squeezes his hand.

“Do you want to nap before we get there?” he asks. “You can use my neck pillow.”

“No, you go ahead.”

“Okay.” Zitao has to let go of Sehun to get the pillow out of his carryon, but once he’s put it on and his eyes close he takes Sehun’s hand again. Sentimental, Sehun thinks with a snort, and links their fingers together, liking how it makes Zitao smile.

 

 

 

 

Sehun lets Zitao sleep until the plane touches down. Zitao doesn’t wake gracefully, and Sehun has to help him along, still yawning and bleary-eyed, until they find his parents, at which point Zitao abruptly becomes fully alert and starts talking a mile a minute with them.

Sehun has seen pictures of Zitao with his parents, of course, but it’s still a shock to see how much taller he is than them in person. His mother is beautiful and his father is very gregarious. Even without understanding much of what they’re saying, Sehun can see Zitao in both of them.

Zitao’s parents know very basic Korean and Zitao’s taught Sehun a handful of Mandarin words and phrases, so they can exchange greetings but have to rely on Zitao to serve as their translator from there. He holds tight to Zitao’s hand once Zitao has finished embracing his parents, and wonders what the Huangs are reading in their body language; if it’ll be enough for whatever it is Zitao’s hoping to accomplish or if they’ll catch on to the truth somehow.

They go to Zitao’s house first, piling into a car expensive enough that Sehun’s eyes pop. Zitao just shrugs when he comments on it. “We have a few more at home,” he says.

“Rich brat,” Sehun teases, and Zitao laughs.

Once Zitao gives him a quick tour, Zitao’s parents insist that he take Sehun around Qingdao. “They have to check in with work, and they said we can all talk at dinner,” Zitao says when Sehun tries to object. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Zitao takes them straight to the beach, which Sehun recognizes from so many of Zitao’s pictures on Weibo. Zitao changes his display picture constantly, but his header has been the same image of the sea at sunset for as long as Sehun has known him.

It’s too cold to even think about swimming, of course, so they walk along the beach instead, Zitao’s arm slung around Sehun’s waist until he breaks away and goes to stand at the shoreline, the waves inches away from lapping at his shoes. “I love it here,” he says happily, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath. “This is what I miss the most.”

He’s beautiful, Sehun thinks as he joins him; not for the first time, but it’s one of those days when the realization hits him hard. He curls his fingers in against his palms, shoving his hands into his pockets so that he can’t reach out and touch. “You do?” he asks, feigning astonishment. “More than your family?”

“No,” Zitao says in exasperation, nudging him. “It’s the _place_ I miss the most. Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Yeah,” Sehun says, shivering a little. “And cold.”

Zitao reacts immediately, concern filling his gaze. “You’re cold?” He reaches out and does his best to tighten Sehun’s scarf, making sure it covers his neck. “Do you want to trade gloves? Mine are thicker. Do you want to wear my scarf, too?”

“No, I’ll be okay,” Sehun assures him. Zitao’s worry has him feeling warm enough, especially once Zitao links arms with him and presses himself against Sehun’s side as they start walking again, like he’s hoping his own body heat will transfer to Sehun.

“Will you be okay if we stay long enough to take a few pictures?” Zitao asks.

“It would seem weird if you didn’t take any.”

“And I want you to have them! I want you to remember everything about Qingdao.”

He won’t need selcas for that, Sehun doesn’t say.

 

 

 

 

Zitao taps Sehun’s hand with two fingertips, smiles when Sehun automatically turns his own hand over and lets Zitao take it in his, threading their fingers together. It’s far from the first time they’ve held hands, but it’s the first time they’ve done it while sitting across from Zitao’s parents; while Sehun’s pretending to be Zitao’s boyfriend. 

Sehun isn’t eating as much as usual, Zitao notices, and his gaze darts continually from Zitao to his parents like he’s looking for signs that anything might be wrong. Zitao squeezes his hand, hoping he’ll get the message for now that everything’s fine. He’d been right to ask Sehun for help. No one would have been better for the job.

“Are you going to take Sehun to meet Chenchen tomorrow?” his mother asks.

Zitao nods. “We’re meeting for lunch.”

“Good! You should take Sehun for hotpot, too, he’ll like that.” Zitao feels Sehun startle at the sound of his name, then relax again at the mention of hotpot, and tries not to laugh. He’s so cute and, for all his teasing, so invested in helping Zitao. He’s lucky to have Sehun in his life, he thinks; it’s not the first time for that, either.

They go to bed earlier than usual. Zitao has so much planned for the next day, especially after his father gave him even more suggestions, and he doesn’t want either of them to be too tired for it.

He’d expected Sehun to relax once it’s just the two of them, but he stays quiet. Normally he’s the one who carries conversations, telling Zitao stories about his day or opinions about the dramas they’re watching together. Zitao does his best to fill in the silences, chattering on about all the things they’ll be doing for the next few days and how much fun they’ll have. 

It’s not until after he peels off his clothes, then climbs into bed that he realizes Sehun’s still hanging back, one hand fiddling with the borrowed bracelet. Zitao hadn’t thought twice about their sleeping arrangements until now, when he sees Sehun eying the bed so strangely. “This is okay, right?” Zitao asks, and Sehun’s eyes snap to his face. “They think they’re dating, so you sleeping in my room-”

“Right, I know.” Sehun wets his lips but doesn’t move. “It’s fine.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Zitao offers, pulling back the blankets and making to get up.

“No!” Sehun says quickly, and finally approaches, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “No, don’t do that. This is fine.”

Zitao likes to think he knows Sehun better than almost anyone, but even a complete stranger could probably tell from his ramrod stiff back and the way he’s fisting the sheets that it’s not fine at all. Zitao scoots over next to him and rests his chin on Sehun’s shoulder. Sehun’s gotten taller and broader since they first met, but they still fit against each other easily.

“Is it because you feel bad about lying?” he asks softly. Sehun hesitates, then slowly nods. “We don’t have to. I can tell them tomorrow.”

“No,” Sehun says, shaking his head. “It’s only two more days. It’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Zitao asks. “You’re not fine.”

“I said I’d help you,” Sehun says stubbornly. “I want to help you.”

Zitao hugs him. It’s times like this that remind him all over again just why Sehun has become his best friend in Korea. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hunhun,” he says fondly.

Sehun sighs and leans his head against Zitao’s. “I know,” he says, and giggles quietly when Zitao pokes his side.

 

 

 

 

The next day—after making sure Sehun is dressed warmly enough before they leave the house—Zitao takes them to his favorite restaurant, texting Chenchen to let him know they’re on their way. He’s been looking forward to his two best friends meeting each other for so long now.

It’s awkward at first; Sehun’s always shy around strangers and Chenchen’s always wary of new people. But both of them relax, and Zitao gets used to translating through three languages rather than two, and for a while everything goes really well. This is the real reason why Zitao’s so glad Sehun came with him. Seeing Sehun in Qingdao, introducing him to his favorite people and taking him to his favorite places—Zitao hasn’t been this happy in a long time.

And then Chenchen throws everything off. _Why don’t you date him for real?_

Zitao bobbles his cup, and has to set it down hastily before it can spill. _What?_

Chenchen grins, his hands moving rapidly. _I mean it. You two would be good together, and he’s hung like a horse._

_He’s my friend!_ Zitao signs, gestures sharper than usual. _And why are you checking him out??_

_I know your type. And I wasn’t checking him out, it’s just impossible to miss. Look how tight his pants are._

“What did he say?” Sehun asks, gaze intent on Chenchen’s hands.

“He likes your snapback,” Zitao lies, glaring warningly at Chenchen.

“I need to practice more,” Sehun mumbles, frowning. “I really thought I knew more.”

Zitao rubs the back of his neck reassuringly, guilt slicing at him for being so relieved. What would it matter if Sehun did know what Chenchen was saying? It’s nothing they can’t all laugh off, right?

Somehow this all degenerates into Chenchen teaching an unwitting Sehun to sign increasingly filthy phrases while Zitao watches helplessly.

“What?” Sehun asks partway through. Zitao wrenches his gaze away from Sehun’s slender hands with some effort. “Am I not getting ‘cat’ right?”

Given that he’s signing _I want to suck your cock_ instead of _I have a cat_ , no, not at all. Zitao’s not sure what he regrets more, not teaching Sehun all the sexual terms himself or not being able to stop him. He should just stop this right now, he knows he should, but… “It’s fine,” he lies, avoiding Chenchen’s knowing gaze, and goes back to watching Chenchen ruin his life.

 

 

 

 

Zitao’s parents insist on taking them out to dinner during their last night in Qingdao. Zitao’s father walks ahead with Sehun, talking with him in halting Korean, while Zitao’s mother takes his arm and walks slowly enough that they’ll stay a few steps behind. “I was glad when you asked us if you could bring Sehun,” she says.

“I know,” Zitao says quietly. Knowing that he’s fooled her and earned a reprieve isn’t as much of a relief as he’d thought it would be. 

“He seems like a very nice boy,” she continues. “I’m glad you found him. You make each other so happy. I can see it, just from the way you look at him.”

Zitao blinks. “Really?”

“How can you doubt me?” she asks with pretended affront. “I gave birth to you. I know you better than anyone. I know when you’re happy and when you’re sad, and I know when you love. And you have so much of it to give.” She frees one hand and taps his heart. “I hope Sehun appreciates it.”

Zitao swallows. “He does.”

 

 

 

 

Zitao can’t stop thinking about what his mother had said.

“I’m glad you found him. You make each other so happy.”

Sehun _does_ make him happy, he thinks, turning his head slightly so he can see where Sehun is sleeping on the other side of the bed, his features peaceful and smooth. He loves Sehun, he trusts Sehun. Sehun’s his best friend. He’s spent the last few hours watching and rewatching those videos of Sehun signing increasingly filthy propositions, the gold bracelet around his wrist occasionally peeking out over his sleeve—Better not to think about that, maybe, but isn’t that the point? If Sehun were just his friend, the way he’s always thought, then it wouldn’t matter.

Sehun sighs quietly in his sleep. One of his arms is slightly outstretched, and Zitao can’t help reaching out, running his fingertips over the bracelet, easily envisioning the way it gleams against Sehun’s skin in the light. He can think about everything in the morning, he tells himself, and closes his eyes, though he doesn’t let go.

 

 

 

 

Sehun’s eyes snap open, and he immediately realizes he’s in trouble.

He’s not sure when Zitao rolled over to his side of the bed, or when Sehun wrapped an arm around his waist and curled flush against Zitao’s body; he’s just glad he woke up first, so he can move away before Zitao realizes anything happened.

For a few seconds he almost wants to stay, to do his best to go back to sleep and keep Zitao like this a little while longer. But that’s not what Zitao would want, so he sighs and starts to shift back, only to hear Zitao mumble, “Hi.”

Sehun blinks. _Shit._ “I didn’t know-” he begins, scooting back, only to come to a stop when Zitao reaches for him.

“It’s okay. It happens.” Zitao’s voice is slurred with sleep, and his hand is warm on Sehun’s shoulder, but when Sehun chances a glance at him Zitao doesn't meet Sehun’s eyes. 

It’s not like this weekend was the first time they’d shared a bed. If they stay up too late watching dramas, or if they’ve been drinking, or if whoever’s visiting just doesn’t feel like going home, it’s more common than not for them to just crawl into each other’s beds. It’s not even the first time they’ve woken up in a tangle of limbs—Sehun has had to extricate himself from Zitao’s arms on more than one occasion, thankfully always able to hide his hot face and morning wood until he’s safely locked himself in the bathroom. 

But after two days of pretending, not only to date Zitao but that he doesn’t mind that it’s not real, this is one too many tastes of something he desperately wants. And Sehun is so tired of keeping quiet that everything pours out of him at once. “I can’t do this,” he says, jerking free from Zitao’s hold and hurrying out of bed. “I shouldn’t have said yes.”

Zitao sits up, his frown deepening. The sheets pool around his waist, his pajama shirt slipping off his shoulder, and Sehun wants to go back to him so badly that it’s almost a physical ache. “What? Sehun-ah, it’s okay-”

Sehun shakes his head quickly. It’s not okay; none of this has been okay. He never should have come to Qingdao. And then instead of just thinking the words for the thousandth time, he hears himself blurting them out. “I shouldn’t have said I’ll be your fake boyfriend when I want to be your real one!”

Zitao recoils, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I can’t…” Blinking back tears, Sehun grabs blindly at the pile of clothes he’d set out the night before. “I’m taking a shower. _Alone_.”

“ _Sehun_ -” Zitao begins, but Sehun rushes out of the room, for once as eager to be away from Zitao as he usually is to be near him. He’s blown it, is all he can think. He’s lost any chance he ever had of Zitao wanting to be with him, he knows that. What if he’s lost Zitao’s friendship, too? How can Zitao ever trust him after this?

 

 

 

 

There isn’t any time for Zitao to talk to Sehun, since by the time they’ve both showered Zitao’s parents are awake, and they have to put on a good face for them in the short while they all have together before they pile into Zitao’s mother’s car and go to the airport. It isn’t a conversation Zitao wants an audience for, not when Sehun looks so miserable and Zitao doesn’t even know what to say. 

“Cheer up,” his mother says before they go through security, squeezing his shoulders. “You’ll be home again soon, and we’ll try to visit before that.”

‘Try’ being the key word, Zitao knows. His parents have only visited Seoul once because they’re so busy with work that it’s easier for them to take time off for his visits to Qingdao. “I know,” he says, forcing a smile as he hugs her. “But I’ll miss you.” It’s better that they think homesickness is the entire reason he’s so upset, not only half of it.

“Tell Sehun to visit again this summer,” Zitao’s father adds, smiling fondly at Sehun. “Or whenever he wants.” Zitao feels even worse. He never should have started this.

“I will,” he says.

In spite of everything he watches proudly as Sehun says good-bye and thanks his parents for their hospitality in halting Mandarin. He makes a few minor mistakes, but he’s still understandable, and the sight of his pleased smile and reddening ears as Zitao’s parents compliment him makes Zitao smile more sincerely than he has all morning. Sehun’s trying so hard. Zitao loves that about him.

The thought hits him strangely. _How_ does he love Sehun? He’s not sure anymore. All he’s sure of is that it had felt _wrong_ when Sehun had bolted out of bed that morning instead of staying curled up with him, and that it hurts when Sehun lets go of his hand as soon as they’re out of his parents’ line of vision.

 

 

 

 

The plane ride home is the complete opposite of the plane ride there. Façade firmly dropped, Sehun stares out the window the whole way back, sitting as far from Zitao as he can. Zitao lets him, even though the distance—both emotional and physical—feels so wrong. He doesn’t know what else to do. They can’t talk here, even though Sehun’s blurted out confession won’t stop replaying in Zitao’s head.

There’s only one exception. “Did you bring it?” Sehun asks, voice uneven.

Startled, Zitao jumps a little. “What?”

“The…” Sehun indicates his bracelet, and Zitao suddenly realizes what he must mean. His heart immediately sinks, taking him aback.

“Oh. Yeah.” He digs through his bag and pulls out the Cartier box, then the screwdriver. Sehun holds out his wrist, and Zitao braces it as lightly as he can, hoping Sehun won’t notice how his fingers are trembling as he unfastens the bracelet. Zitao’s wanted it for a long time, has dreamed for years about what it will look like on him, but in that moment he hates the thought of having it back; of seeing it anywhere but around Sehun’s wrist.

Sehun jerks his arm back as soon as the bracelet is free and goes back to staring out the window, and Zitao wants to say something, _anything_. Instead he just packs everything away again and goes back to waiting for the flight to be over and wishing he knew what to do.

Joonmyun picks them both up at the airport. Zitao clings to him more than he should when they hug, he knows that, but he can’t help it. Joonmyun’s always been one of the most comforting people he knows, and he needs that right now. Sehun barely says two words when Joonmyun tries to make conversation, just slings his bags into the trunk and settles in the backseat, staring out the window.

“What happened?” Joonmyun asks Zitao, keeping his voice low, before they get in the car, but Zitao shakes his head. He can’t talk about it, not when he hasn’t sorted it out himself. And he needs to, he thinks, sneaking a glance at Sehun for the millionth time.

 

 

 

 

It’s been three days since they got back from Qingdao. Three days since Sehun’s seen Zitao. 

Sehun hadn’t realized how big a part of his life Zitao really is—how Zitao’s always the first person he texts, the first person he makes plans with, the first person he tells everything to; how three years of friendship have given them so many in-jokes and shared experiences that _everything_ reminds him of Zitao—until he was cut off from him entirely. He misses him, but he’s not going to push. He has to wait for Zitao to decide what he wants to do.

Sehun keeps reaching down to toy with the bracelet only to find himself touching bare skin, which frustrates him. How did he get so used to a piece of jewelry in just a few days? It’s not even his usual style—the only bracelets he really ever wears often are the beaded ones Zitao gave him last year. But if that Cartier bracelet had really been Zitao’s gift to him, he never would have taken it off, his style or not.

He sighs in frustration, turning back to his laptop. This isn’t getting him anywhere, especially not with his essay. He needs to-

There’s a knock on his door, and he sighs again. Probably Chanyeol again, or Daeun, or someone else trying and failing to pretend like they’re not worried about him. At least the essay gives him an excuse to send them away, he thinks as he heads to the door, fully prepared to do just that—until he sees that it’s Zitao, a neatly wrapped package in his hand, his gaze nervous and focused on Sehun.

“Hi,” Sehun says numbly. He’d thought…

“I never gave you a birthday gift,” Zitao says, holding the box in his hands out to him.

“My birthday isn’t until next month.”

“So? Open it.”

Sehun does, feeling awkward under Zitao’s gaze as he tears through the paper and opens the lid.

There, amidst the cotton, is a gold screwdriver now on a chain, one Sehun immediately recognizes.

He’s so shocked he nearly drops the entire box. “Tao?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Zitao says, “about why it was so easy for me to not date anyone in the first place. And I guess—we’ve been kind of dating all along, haven’t we?”

Sehun’s gaze shoots up to his face. Zitao’s eyes are fixed on him, solemn and intense. He means it. “That’s what Baekhyun hyung says,” Sehun says slowly.

“Taking you to Qingdao was really important to me,” Zitao tells him. “Not because I wanted you to pretend to be my boyfriend. I wanted _you_ in Qingdao. I wanted you to meet my parents, I wanted you to meet Chenchen… a lot more than I would have wanted to take you if we were really just friends.”

“I still…” Sehun wets his lips, heart skipping a beat when he sees Zitao’s gaze track the motion. “I still should have told you. How I felt. You should have known before I went along with that. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry I asked you. It was a stupid idea.” Zitao reaches out and squeezes his hand quickly. “Maybe we can go again this summer. As real boyfriends, this time?”

Sehun swallows. “Yeah. That would—that would be nice.”

“Good.” Zitao beams at him, then indicates the box. “Can I-”

“What?” Sehun asks blankly, then realizes what he means. “Oh. Right. Please.”

Zitao grins and Sehun can’t help but smile back, giddy and a little overwhelmed. Their smiles both fade as Zitao fastens the necklace around the neck and Sehun feels the screwdriver’s weight drop against his chest for the first time.

“It looks good,” Zitao says, tracing his fingertips along the chain. Sehun nods, staring down at it. Zitao’s close, he discovers when he looks up again. So close. And all Sehun can do is kiss him, heart pounding when Zitao immediately kisses back, his hand tightening on the necklace.

 

 

 

 

“Shouldn’t I have given you the bracelet?” Sehun can’t help but ask later, when they’re curled up in his bed wearing nothing but the bracelet and the screwdriver. “Isn’t this completely backwards?”

“It’s right for us,” Zitao mumbles sleepily, nuzzling his neck. One of his hands is curled around Sehun’s necklace again, right over his heart. “You never would’ve thought of something this good.”

“I wouldn’t have to. You’d tell me about it and talk about how much you wanted it until I gave it to you.”

Zitao pinches his side and Sehun laughs. “Now you’re going to have to get me something really nice for my birthday to make everything up to me.”

“Everything?” Sehun echoes. “Like what?”

“Like how if you’d said something sooner, we could’ve done this ages ago-”

“I take it back; I’d rather be with Baekhyun hyung.”

Zitao squawks indignantly. “You would _not_ ,” he insists, kissing him before Sehun can debate him.

No, Sehun acknowledges, this is exactly where he wants to be.


End file.
